If you were here today....

If you were here,

If you were here today, visiting this lake on a chilly winter afternoon, I would have told you that even when none of the trees have any leaf left on them, a park can look very serene and beautiful sometimes. I would have told you that trees, just like humans, appear to be a little tired at times,  especially after spring, and when you sit beside them quietly, they might just shed a tear or two on your shoulder too. 

If you were here, I would have told you that the way squirrel runs around, makes one think that in squirrels how does one tell old and young apart? Sure enough scientist would know of ways, but to naked eye, their agility and health seems almost same whether they are young or old!

Two people, at a distance, walking with arm in arm evokes a certain degree of warmth and happiness even though they are complete strangers to you. 

Picture courtesy - Ramchandra M S

I would have told you that though poles apart, for the differences in geography, natural scenery across the world have something common among them. Mountains always make us feel our existence and therefore, our problems are tiny compared to theirs. Sunsets always an elegant reminder of how endings can be beautiful and always followed by new beginnings.  Lakes always impart a sense of calm and collected composure, even when the water in them is frozen in patches. 

                                                                   

I would have told you all that and one more thing perhaps, that even in midst of all these non-human and natural elements, if there were a few humans in my thought you were one of them,if that is any indication of our friendship, in any way.  Overwhelming as natural scenery may be, we have a way of putting a human touch in it - perhaps a suggestive of the fact that we too are a part of it in a larger picture. 

Tuesdays With Morrie - By Mitch Albom

Have you ever shivered a little before making any phone call? Ever put off a phone call or getting in touch with someone for many days, months or even years? That confrontation which we so dread, is often the confrontation we all most need. 

This confrontation may be in different forms, sometimes it is with people you fear you have let down, sometimes its with ideas, sometimes its with self reconciliation. In this book, author takes us through his journey of confronting series of such ideas that we normally put off during day-to-day life. His teacher, Morrie, who is dying of ALS becomes his guide through the journey and helps him see things with a refreshingly different perspective.

Mitch is fairly successful professional, a self made sports journalist who has everything that takes to win in the world, skills, understanding, connections and hunger for even more success. He has a lady love in life too, whom he intends to marry sometime. He considers himself happy and when asked “Are you happy?”  usually his reply would be, “I guess, I cannot complaint.” Though successful he struggles with finding meaning of life, purpose of existence and shies away from thoughts of death, sympathy, empathy and compassion. Until he met Morrie once more. 

Morrie cuts through Mitch’s defenses with deft of an old lover, one after the other and helps Mitch face some of the bigger questions of life which he had been putting off until now in guise of getting more work, more money, more success. The fact that Morrie is suffering from ALS and is diagnosed to die in a few months, makes their journey even more poignant and inspiring.

Morrie reinforces some of the timeless truths which we all know but only some apply. He crusades against following advertised values, cautions against expecting that material things will yield us any solace, advises to keep close with family members and friends. However it is not so much what he says, but how beautifully he exemplifies all that he says makes this story wonderful. For example, when during a football match, when everyone in stadium was shouting - we are number-1 , we are number-1 - he got up and asked a rhetorical question to the crowd, “What’s wrong in being number-2?”  Or his insistence on holding a living funeral for himself, because he wanted to hear the good things people had to say of him while he was alive and not after his death. 

While it comes across as a book filled with bright spots Morrie doesn't feign positivity or happiness at all. When asked, if he laments his condition, he candidly answers that he often cries in morning for having this disease which is killing him slowly. As much as he is sad of his health, he never allows himself more than a few minutes of self-pity every morning, after that he thinks about the day ahead, all the people who he is going to meet today. Morrie’s daily quota of limited self pity is such a contrast to everyday cribbing we hear constantly from people around us about far more routine stuff than their life. 

Another very inspiring aspect of Morrie’s character is that he gives everyone his complete attention. He defers phone calls when in an in-person conversation, and maintains a very doting eye contact with his audience despite his flailing health. In an age where personal space is so intruded with gadgets his was really an amazing example of how to go about talking to people in person. 

Book is replete with such examples of everyday events that we often neglect and avoid. It also provides a new perspective towards death and shows a more welcoming, warm and friendly approach to that eternal truth of everyone’s life. 

Like all great teachers, Morrie offers a lot to learn and think - his last class was on life, it had no textbook or curriculum, there were no exams and learning from that goes on for anyone who has been touched by this book.

Tolerance is not same as temperature

Tolerance is not same as temperature – there is no ready, reliable or consistent measurement for it. This immeasurability, and consequent subjectivity is central to the current debate surrounding the issue. One of the most eminent and successful Bollywood star made a public remark that sparked a wildfire among Indian Internet users and like many such debates on internet – this one too seems to be going down a rat hole.

In paragraphs that follow, there is an attempt to view this episode from a slightly different perspective.

Tolerance is very contextual, for example our tolerance to hot water while taking shower is different during different seasons. Similarly, in a society there are bound to be times when public opinion could be more tolerant than other times.  Not only with respect to time, public opinion also changes based on subjects, themes, circumstances and backdrops – it is possible that a society has more tolerance towards love marriages than same sex marriages.

Tolerance is also an evolving phenomenon – and many factors shape it continuously. A classic example of this is changing tolerance levels for issues like climate change and corruption – with increased awareness of energy crisis, our tolerance to problems effecting environment reduces, similarly as people become more aware of their own rights, their tolerance to corruption also reduces. Both these examples are, of course a welcome change. A point to note here is that by itself, reduction or increase in tolerance level cannot be an indicative of type, it has to be placed in context of subject – one at a time.  Direct verdict of either tolerant or intolerant is akin to saying someone scored 100/100 - but not knowing in which subject/field. J

Besides being contextual and evolving, tolerance is also impacted by resources available at hand. For example, if the domestic help becomes extremely costly from tomorrow – then certain outsourced chores may have to either done on one’s own or ignored – in both cases, cleanliness and orderliness of household chores may reduce – and tolerance for that will need to be increased or adjusted. J

If one were to look at an example of national level, it can be said that for a developing nation if literacy holds higher priority than space research – then tolerance towards illiteracy should be lower as compared to tolerance towards moderate or low advancement in space research. And as country’s demographics change, objectives evolve these priorities may undergo changes too.

Now that we know above points on tolerance, it makes sense to check the environment in light of these points with reference to India

1.        What are the areas where we, as a country have shown volatile approach with respect to tolerance? – besides our tolerance of Indian cricket team which changes in direct correlation with their wins/losses
2.        What are the areas where tolerance has evolved over last few years, may be generations. What are the things that our parents had to do with permission from their parents but we do it today at our free-will?
3.        What are the areas where tolerance level of society directly impacts our daily life, how much the corruption in road construction impact the price of milk we buy everyday? Are the priorities of our nation in right order – if something pressing is missing, we may want to enquire and re-align.

The fact that we are a vibrant and fully functioning democracy, is itself the biggest achievement of overall tolerance, ability to debate, reason and argue. We must treasure, protect and enhance it. Think on above three points and share your thoughts with friends,relatives and me. 

As for Aamir Khan, the expression of his spouse is not a very well-thought I believe, it is similar to an exhausted, tired and a little bit resigned feeling we all get on soupy Sunday afternoons where we think that perhaps going to some other place might be the answer to all questions we are grappling with. As almost everyone knows, going somewhere else is never an answer. In hindsight, perhaps it could be said/interpreted and circulated a bit more maturity.

And still, let’s, for a moment, suppose Aamir really wanted to leave – then let’s be sport and suggest some good countries, rather than vehement and childish demands of sending him to specific troubled countries. J

My suggestion would be Bhutan, What’s yours? 

D-213 Fired on all fronts

D213 is our apartment, four of us share it. This Friday evening residents of D213 were putting some pretty intense thinking for the game of cricket planned on Saturday morning.

Weekend cricket is informal and not played with pre-determined teams. However there is a clear informal line which separates the two teams – one team considered as naïve and inferior by the other team implicitly. Four of us who share an apartment ended up playing on same side. We were the ones considered naïve and inferior.

Previously when we four were playing from same side, we lost a very close game – a bit like India’s loss to Australia in Sydney under Anil Kumble’s captaincy. Since then the desire to win had only sharpened among us, and though no-one directly spoke of it, we were looking to win and set the record straight. There is a special joy in startling the opposition, who has written you off as an inferior side, with stunning performance in any sport; more so in cricket!

Our opposition team started rather well, with scoring almost 6 runs an over without losing a wicket, and were looking to put up a good total. Unfortunately we dropped a few catches and that allowed them to score a decent total of 71 runs in 10 overs. Ram who has transformed from a stop-gap bowler to a regular strike bowler bowled full quota and took crucial wickets to put some breaks in the free flowing innings from the opposition. I also got a wicket and bowled rather tight last over of the game.

In steep chase of 72 we lost a wicket on score of 0 and in walked Nilesh, who is famously known as Shahid Afridi of D213! His innings though was very unlike Afridi, this time. He nudged the ball around and dealt in ones and twos.  On the other end was his best friend and an ideal partner – Satish. He also has a reputation of a big hitter but today he applied himself like never before. His stroke-play was amazing, with a reverse sweep to a pace bowler being the highlight of it! Both of them were going 6 an over, and looked in complete control while they were on crease. After 6 overs we were 38 for the loss of just one wicket!

7^th over was the one when Nilesh and Satish decided to go after the opposition. Both of them got six each, and their sixes are not normal sixes, they are monstrous hits that make bowlers feel weak in their knees. With two sixes and a boundary, they amassed 16 runs in 7^th over. This made the equation 18 runs in 18 balls. However on the first ball of 8^th over Nilesh got out against a run of play.

Memories of collapse after his wicket in last game haunted me as I walked in, with side needing still 18 in 17 balls. After taking a dot ball, I took a single and Satish came on strike. He played couple of dot balls and got out on the last ball of 8^th over. This wicket allowed our fourth flat-mate, Ram to enter the match at a crucial time.

Before 9^th over, when we were in the middle I told Ram that between the two of us, I will chance the arms and he will try to bat through the innings.  9^th over started well for us with a double and a wide. Bowler was the quickest from the opposition but I kept driving and cutting all through the over – we ran well and took 4 twos in the over and got one wide as bonus!  

With last over and 8 to win, it was still anyone’s game. Especially in Denver where grounds have very heavy outfield and ground-shots typically are not always well-rewarded, 8 runs was still defendable in 6 balls.

Between the overs, Ram told me that he will now go for it from the first ball itself!

First ball of the last over went straight over the bowler’s head for a six! I was thrilled and told Ram that it was perhaps the best time to pull out the straight six. Fueled by a lot of intent and aggression he sent the next ball also over the bowlers head for the same result! We had successfully chased the target and won the game!

Next week two of our friends are leaving for India, for holidays. This was a wonderful way to bid good bye.

What a sky catch can do to a struggling cricketer

When you are having a season which is below average, as a cricketer it becomes very annoying as well as depressing fact of life. Having played as a number-3 batsman in all the teams I represented from school to junior level states; to have more than 10 games in succession with a highest score of just 17 not out was a troubling thing. Not only could I not score as freely as I would have liked, my role in the team also slumped to someone who was just a blocking guy, used as a shield to play out the opposition bowling searing through the top order as and when such a need arose.

Selection in top eleven depended not on my batting skills but on the fact that I was also a useful bowler who could bowl six balls at one place without conceding any extras. I bowled first change consistently and took a couple of wickets invariably. However, I wasn’t a go-to man for my captain in case of crisis situation. With someone who relies more on variations in length rather than great pace, I wasn’t a first choice if the opposition batsmen were chancing their arms successfully at anything.  

There was a constant battle going in the mind, various theories of why it is not working out were advanced, debated and refuted. The fact that grass in Colorado grounds is thicker than any other grounds I had played; did seem comforting on the face of it– however deep in heart, I knew it wasn’t the outfield that had the issue.

And then in the last innings that I played, amid falling wickets at the other end, when I was still there at the crease blocking – struggling to get the drives past the covers and cuts through the point – I saw a ray of hope. May be that was to be the innings that would resurrect the lost form; prove that class was indeed permanent and I did have it; free me from the self-doubt that inflicts every sportsman going through the slump. At mid innings break we had lost more than half the side, and I told myself to stay there and grind it out.

The first ball I faced after the break – I did the most horrible thing possible. I guided one to the slip; fancying a chance with an upper cut. Walking back was heart wrenching, picturing the dismissal was not helping; but there was no way to avoid it either! Why, o’why did I try to be cheeky; did not I know the fact that it was a shot to be played when one was in good touch only? Did not I know the fact that bowler was too slow and maximum I might have got from that shot – even if it cleared slip – was just one run?   It was a cricketing synonym for suicide – as if I was giving fielding practice to the opposition team.

After that dismissal, I thought to myself if I would really consider myself a batsman. Not long ago, in India I had hit pace bowlers for sixes over the top of their heads. Not long ago, square cut used to be a shot that was sure to yield a four whenever width was on offer. Not long ago, I was an active batsman always busy on crease and playing freely, scoring runs and having shots to cherish from every innings that I played. Thoughts of past glory did not subside the present misery; they only exaggerated it!

While going for another game this Saturday, I told my team-mate that I needed one good innings before the end of the season. With just 4-5 games to go; and the current form of the team, as well as myself; it looked very remote possibility. A dreadful thought lurked in mind, if I will be transformed as a bowler forever!! Or if I had already!!

In that particular game, I did not get a chance to bat and bowled just one over that cost 9 runs to the team. It was a close game and demanded complete intensity; on field. I was fielding at long off and thinking to myself if there was any light at the end of this dark runless tunnel. The opposition needed 30 in last 4 overs and in walked their most explosive batsman. On the first ball he walked across the stump and lifted it over the short fine leg for a boundary.

We knew that the only way to win was to get that player out before it was too late. The captain called me in from long off and asked me to go to short fine leg.  Looking at his stroke-making he thought there would be a chance of a skier at short fine leg and trusted me to take it.

Usually when one is out of sync with game, fielding is an aspect that reveals it the most. Fumbles become regular and sky catches become nightmares. How one fields is a great sign of one’s connect with game!

On the next ball; batsman again hoiked one more time – bowler being the tallest guy in our team ball went only up in the distance and not far. It was exactly between me and the man standing at midwicket; “mine” shouted I while running towards the square leg umpire.  

High as it was, it gave ample amount of time to position under the ball nicely and put my hands up in anticipation. Hard as one’s hands are usually when not in regular practice – it bounced off once; however composed judgment, position and calmness ensured that I gathered it easily on second attempt without any panic.

That catch was the only saving grace from that game; however it did something wonderful to me. Those who play cricket, know it enough that when you take skiers comfortably and confidently you are at peace and joy with the game! It rekindled the kinship with the sport I love!

It was joyous realization that even when runs were dried, connect with cricket remained vivacious, active and joyous!!

Hopefully runs will follow too!

Crushing loss and a scraped win

Some of us looked forward to that particular weekend as a special one. After long, we had planned to play a cricket match – weather was on our side and so all of us reached ground at time to start off the much awaited game.

In the excitement of playing, we made a mistake that seems a blunder when looked in hindsight – we kept the match to be of 20 overs – and even forgot the fact that we were playing at 5000 plus feet above sea level. And as luck would have it, we lost the toss and opposition chose to bat first.

At the beginning things went well – until one of the opposition team member decided to take us all to the cleaners. Suddenly all our bowlers started looking like kids playing against a high class professional athlete. Catches dropped, balls went through – shots that would fetch just a single, started getting two and threes. The trouble of playing after long break – is that your body is usually a couple of steps behind. Dives to stop or catch the ball came usually late by a few seconds, legs went forward and torso seems crawling behind, scratchily. On top of that, there is a lot of frustration from everyone, because when you are on ground, nobody wants to lose, or nobody wants to lose like that.  All of that lead to chaos – after a couple of failed attempts to control that chaos, and bring the team back – I did what seemed like the only available option at that time. We waited for it to get over. The opposition batsman, who dented us the most, was considered to be better than us – and he batted as if he knew that well. In penultimate over of the innings he hit me over my head for six with complete disgust – gulping down I delivered another ball – only to see it being sent for another boundary. The next ball went in air again, and to our great relief the catch was taken this time. He scored a century, before getting out and probably batted us out of the game.

We were set a target to chase 203 runs in our 20 overs – a tough ask by any standard. Our innings started and soon it was falling apart like pack of cards.  Fresh bowlers of opposition, looked far more threatening than they actually were – against our dilapidated batting line up. To make matters worse, the outfield was very slow – square cuts through ground that would fetch an easy boundary on any good ground, would only get you two if you ran hard. Realizing this, I tried to be too cheeky too soon and attempted a Dil-Scoop, only to miss the ball and get bowled in a funny looking fashion.

The rude reminder of the fact that body was not backing up what mind so desperately wanted was not pleasant. We lost the game, and some of our players left ground, dejected at the loss which they would soon forget.

Those who were there, thought to give it one more shot, though this time for only 10 overs. We started another match – and this time we won the toss and chose batting first. I opened with the fastest runner on our team, and we ran many doubles. He was a great athlete and a pushy partner when it came to take doubles. Had it not been his insistent Dhoni-like running, we would have only had half the runs we made in our partnership.  After a stable start without losing a wicket in first five overs– we had our share of power hitters who helped reaching the score to 58 in our ten overs. At best – looking at their batting line up, this was a modest total.

On taking the field we were determined to give our best to defend that total. 4 regular bowlers left us to squeeze two overs from somewhere and luckily one of the part time bowlers stepped up.

Our regular bowlers started decently – and finished their overs quickly. In last two overs – they needed 16 runs and we had two overs, one from a part timer and one from me. I tossed the ball to the part timer and he bowled us an amazing overs just conceding 6 runs, with no extras. When they needed 10 in final over – and centurion of the first innings at crease, they seemed very confidently placed.  To be honest – I thought of the part timer to be better bowler than me, but just the fact that I had slightly higher confidence and match awareness, made me consider myself as a bowler on that team. When taking that last over, I was touch nervous. We had 10 runs to defend, 4 more than what I had expected to be defending in last over, so suddenly victory seemed within reach!

First 2 balls, the batsman could not connect – third one where he connected went upwards and not far enough. Wicketkeeper dropped the skier, and the batsman did not run. Of course he was still backing himself to get 10 in final 3. Beneath a veneer of a heavily built body, I could finally see some panic. “Pressure gets to most of us.” I told the umpire before 4^th ball which again got an outside edge that dropped before the keeper. Now, if they wanted to win, he had to hit a six and a four at least – fifth ball went on ground and they did not run. All I had to do now was to bowl a legal delivery and we would win! All team members suggested to be careful and not to deliver a wide or no-ball, I delivered a low full toss that went for a four.

After a crushing defeat – this hard fought win came as a great relief. It restored the single most important factor in success, self-belief for all of us. It was like being in love again after a bad break up, makes one feel alive again whenever remembered.  

 

6 O clock- routine

“What time is it now?” I used to ask my grandfather frequently as a kid. In a span of 30 minutes, this was 10^th time, and each time he would reply with a smile – showing the clock and progress its hands had made from the time of last enquiry.

Disappointed at its slow pace, I would wander around again to come back to him with the same question after a few minutes. Old man, knowing the intention behind repeated enquiries - would carefully explain that it was 30 minutes past five; and would take 30 more minutes for my mother to return from office.  As a kid of working mother, 6’o clock in the evening had a special meaning for me. It was the time when she would return. On some days, by the time it was 4:30 in evening, urge to see her home used to be so pressing that I had to call her office and ask if she would be home by 6.  She would confirm that she would be back by 6 – and that helped me cross the last hour and a half.

While growing up, things changed – the time that was spent waiting for her, soon got filled with engrossing cricket games in society, tuition classes and group studies with friends. My calls to her at 4:30 in evening, changed to her calls to my friends’ homes around 8 PM to enquire if I was there. On moving to college, that threshold only got pushed further.

At times her “Good Night” message was an unpleasant reminder for guilt of not calling her for the entire day. Quick call back to compensate and an assurance to call early next morning were nothing but failed attempts to cover up.

Once I started working, things did not improve either. Growing social commitments kept on pushing the time further – and for a certain time, my call was the last thing she would attend to before falling asleep.

I then moved to Denver, Colorado for work. Due to the 12 and a half hour time difference, there would be none that I can call in India during my day time. This simple realization brought back, the importance I used to attach to 6’o clock (IST) – the only difference, it would be 6 AM IST this time! Hand goes to the phone more often, after 5 PM MST – as that’s the time my mother would have woken up at home.  On weekends, I have actually called home at 5 PM MST a couple of times – and waking them up a tad bit earlier than the usual time.

It is very hard to appreciate one’s mother, I don’t know why – perhaps because it is not possible. But luckily, this co-incidental reunion with 6’o clock routine helped me become a bit more aware about the warm rush of blood it used to trigger in my heart as a 5-6 year old – and still does.